Harry Potter and the Witching Ring
by shiisnocturne
Summary: After Voldemort's defeat, Hogwarts invites all students back to complete their educations due to disruptions by the war. Harry is ecstatic at the prospect of another year of Hogsmeade visits and Quidditch matches without the threat of dark wizards. But when trouble begins brewing at the International Wizarding Games, it is once again up to Harry and his friends to save the day.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

**CHAPTER 1**: New Beginnings

It was a blazingly hot afternoon in mid-July. The once pristine lawns of Privet Drive were dry and barren, and the hydrangeas by the window were parched and wilting against the cracked dirt. The streets were completely empty. The silence was disturbed only by the sound of the dusty window glass creaking in their frames at the slightest indication of a dry breeze.

All in all, Privet Drive looked nothing like it had a year ago. Looking out his bedroom window, Harry slowly surveyed the neighborhood. The last time he had been looking down on the graveled drive, he was watching the Dursleys' car swing down the road, turning right onto Wisteria Walk and disappearing into the setting sun. At the time, he hadn't thought that he would ever be back in his bedroom of seventeen years. He wasn't even sure he would ever see the Dursleys again—not that he particularly minded, to be honest.

Harry glanced down the street expectantly. After the war had ended, he had borrowed Pigwidgeon to send a note to the Dursleys notifying them that it was safe to return to Privet Drive, where he was staying alone until the Weasleys returned from their visit to Bill and Fleur's cottage in Cornwall. Although most of his interactions with the Dursleys had been marked by intense dislike, Harry felt inclined to make sure they returned home safely. After all, they had technically kept up their part of the deal under Dumbledore's orders, even if their methods of doing so had been anything but pleasant.

Harry skimmed over the letter in his hands. Several weeks after Harry sent his message, Uncle Vernon had given his response:

_Boy,_

_DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING OR BLOW ANYTHING UP. No funny business, you hear? DO NOT send any more messages with this stupid, ruddy owl—IT NEARLY BIT OFF MY FINGER. We will be back from Switzerland around four p.m. on July 30._

_Vernon Dursley. _

"Good work, Pigwidgeon," Harry said, thinking of Uncle Vernon's big, purple face swollen in frustration as he battled with the small owl.

Harry heard a rumbling in the distance as the Dursley's dark Vauxhall Chevette rode up the street. Uncle Vernon's beady eyes and bushy black moustache were visible behind the car's front window. He could see Aunt Petunia stretching her abnormally long neck trying to catch a glimpse of the other houses and muttering under her breath, most likely about the abominable state of the un-mowed lawns and overgrown hedges. Dudley was engrossed in munching on the chocolate bar that was barely visible under his thick fingers.

So much had changed in the last year, it was a small comfort to Harry that the predictable Dursleys—as horrible as their predictability could be—who treasured their very normal lives had been completely unchanged by the recent events.

Turning up onto the driveway, the car came to a stop with a grunt. Uncle Vernon rolled down the window and stuck his thick head out first, looking around as if he expected someone to jump out and attack them any minute.

"Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, calling from the window.

Uncle Vernon leapt out of his seat, banging the back of his head against the car frame and cursing angrily as a result.

"Vernon!" Aunt Petunia squealed. "Are you alright?"

"NO! STUPID BOY!" Uncle Vernon shrieked as he stepped out of the car. "WERE YOU TRYING TO GET ME KILLED?"

"Sorry," Harry said automatically. "Good to know you made it back safely," he continued quickly.

Uncle Vernon grunted in response, eyes fixed on Harry suspiciously as he pulled his bulky suitcase from the trunk and towards the house.

"Come on Diddykins," Aunt Petunia crooned, as she smoothed Dudley's hair. "We're finally home."

Harry snickered at the fact that Dudley was eighteen and still being called pet names by his mother, but luckily Aunt Petunia couldn't see him as she was already through the door, Dudley trudging behind her.

Upon entering the house, Aunt Petunia cried in dismay at the sight of dust on the usually spotless furniture and gleaming floors. By the time Harry had made his way down the stairs and into the living room, she had already recovered and tied her frilly apron around her waist and was attacking the kitchen tile with an offensively pink vacuum cleaner.

Uncle Vernon sank down on an oversized armchair, the cushions squeaking under his weight.

"So Lord Voldywart and his—whatsit?—Dismembers are finally gone," Uncle Vernon said loudly. "Guess that means your lot shouldn't be showing up 'round these parts anymore?"

"That's the general idea," Harry replied. "There shouldn't be any more attacks on Muggles now that Voldemort is gone for good."

"It's fine time someone put an end to all this hocus pocus," Uncle Vernon roared overenthusiastically, as he waved the remote toward the television set, turning it on with a crackle from lack of use.

Dudley lumbered in and collapsed on the sofa next to Uncle Vernon, still licking the chocolate from his fingers. "So you won't be staying?" he asked.

"Guess not," Harry said. "I figured I should make sure you all made it back here. I'll be staying with the Weasleys'; they'll be expecting me soon."

"It's good you came back," Dudley said quietly, before turning pink at the admission as if surprised that the words had come from his mouth, making him look even more like an overgrown pig than usual.

"I'll send a card for Christmas." Harry looked at his surroundings one last time. "Well, I guess I'll be off."

As he made his exit, with Uncle Vernon and Dudley sprawled on the couch and the faint sound of the news buzzing in his ears, no house-elves or dementors or giants on motorbikes in sight, Harry thought that Number Four, Privet Drive had not been so normal, so unadulteratedly Dursleyish, for a long while. People were starting to come out of their houses following the Prime Minister's announcement that it was safe to do so. Soon the lawns of Privet Drive would be just as pristine as they had always been, prior to the war.

Harry was halfway to the staircase when Aunt Petunia suddenly reached out and tapped Harry on the shoulder awkwardly before immediately retracting her hand, as if prolonged physical contact with him was dangerous. She muttered something softly and Harry could barely catch her words as he strained to hear her.

"Stay safe, Harry."

Harry looked at her in surprise and Aunt Petunia hastily averted her gaze, her lips pursed in concentration, busying herself by wiping down the counter which was already gleaming.

"Right. Thanks Aunt Petunia."

Harry ran up the staircase to his bedroom. Besides the thin layer of dust covering the window and the cobwebs that had started to gather in the corners, the room was just as unusually neat as Harry remembered it being when he had left a year ago, having already emptied out most of his belongings. He sat down on his bed and saw Dumbledore peering up at him from page ten of the _Daily Prophet_, his blue eyes bright behind his half-moon spectacles.

Harry picked up the article carefully, folded it in quarters and slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans, next to the most recent copy of the newspaper. The bold black letters of the front-page headline were just visible:

_SHACKLEBOLT NAMED MINISTER OF MAGIC_

_Long-time Senior Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt has succeeded the late Rufus Scrimgeour as Minister of Magic. Shacklebolt was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, a society founded by respected wizard Albus Dumbledore, which played a significant role in the ultimate victories of the Second Wizarding War and the Battle of Hogwarts. His appointment has been well-received by the Wizarding community._

_Shacklebolt's first actions as Minister of Magic include banning the use of Dementors in guarding Azkaban, which is currently being watched by goblins. He has also announced plans for the internal reorganization of the Ministry of Magic, starting with the abolition of the "Head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission" post, previously occupied by Dolores Umbridge._

_As of press time, Shacklebolt has been unavailable for a full-length interview. Shacklebolt's representatives have stated that he has currently been busy working with professors at Hogwarts on a plan that is yet to be unveiled. The only information that has been released is that slight changes to the curriculum can be expected for the upcoming school year. (ctd. Shacklebolt, page 5)._

As Harry shoved both articles deeper into his pocket to prevent them from falling out, his gaze fell upon a pure white feather that had floated near the foot of the bed, stopping at his feet. The feather was contrasted starkly against its dark surroundings. Harry bent down and picked it up, turning it in his hands wistfully as he thought about Hedwig, his snowy owl and faithful companion who had lost her life last summer. She had been his only true connection to the Wizarding world during the unbearably long stretches between the end of the school year and the start of the next one.

His train of thought was broken as a giant brown blur swooped down and crashed into the closed window. Harry quickly moved to let the owl in.

After a slight struggle, the owl succeeded in squeezing through and dropping the letter it was carrying, sending the sizable stack of newspapers on Harry's desk flying in the process and proceeding to cluck impatiently as it waited for Harry to read the message.

_Harry,_

_I hope you've made it back to your aunt and uncle's home safely. I'm unsure regarding what you've decided on for your living situation, so for the time being, the school owl will be using your former address unless notified otherwise. A second owl should be arriving with your formal letter shortly._

_Professor McGonagall_

As if on cue, a smaller owl appeared bearing a yellow envelope addressed to Mr. H. Potter, the Bedroom Upstairs at 4 Privet Drive, in familiar emerald ink. Tearing open the envelope, Harry pulled out the yellowish parchment and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Please take the time to read the information thoroughly regarding changes that will be taking place at Hogwarts School._

_The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and the Department of Magical Education have worked with the professors at Hogwarts School to determine the requirements for graduation following the unusual circumstances in the last academic year. O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. examinations were postponed and many students were unable to complete their wizarding education in full. _

_After careful evaluation of coursework offered in the previous year, the current Ministry has come to the conclusion that some professors from the last Hogwarts administration were unqualified to teach and caused disturbances to the overall education of students. (All students enrolled in Dark Arts and Muggle Studies, taught by Amycus and Alecto Carrow respectively, did not fulfill the content standards adopted by the Ministry under Educational Provision for Magic No. 5234 and 6279). To equip young wizards and witches with the necessary skills and knowledge to use their magic wisely and appropriately, to the best of their ability, several adjustments have been made to the curriculum for the upcoming school year. _

_We are pleased to inform you that Hogwarts is inviting all previous seventh year students to return for an additional year of preparation before taking the appropriate examinations for graduation. Graduates will receive a certification of magical excellence, without which, licenses for certain careers (list available in Ministry's POO: Pamphlet of Official Occupations) will be unobtainable. Fifth year students, if prepared, may choose to take the O.W.L. examination at the beginning of the year for placement into sixth year courses, or may otherwise elect to take additional fifth year courses before testing._

_The Ministry and Hogwarts staff believe that the provisional plan of action and revisions made to the curriculum will be largely beneficial to all students and will allow Hogwarts to uphold its tradition of providing the finest wizarding education._

_The list of necessary books and equipment for seventh year students is enclosed. Equipment may vary as a result of course selection._

_Term begins on September 1._

_Yours sincerely, _

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress_

Harry absentmindedly smoothed over the purple wax seal on the front of the envelope, his forefinger running over the lion, eagle, badger, and snake, as he considered the contents of the letter.

He couldn't believe that he was going back to Hogwarts. Despite the fact that he had only missed school for a year, it felt like ages since he had boarded the Hogwarts Express, sat in a compartment with friendly, familiar faces, purchased Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans from the witch pushing the lunch trolley.

A warm feeling rose in his stomach as he thought about the school engraved in his memory. Harry could still see the massive castle rising above sloping lawns and the Gryffindor common room decorated with rich velvet banners of red and gold, could remember the candles and conversation that lit up the Great Hall. Although he had missed it terribly, Harry was actually glad that he hadn't been at Hogwarts last year; he wouldn't have been able to endure slowly watching the Death Eaters suck the life out of the closest thing he had ever had to a real home.

Unlike most normal teenagers, as soon as school ended, Harry couldn't wait for the next term to begin. There were undoubtedly some classes he didn't remember too fondly - he hadn't quite forgotten the Grim incident with Trelawney or Potions with the Slytherins - and several ridiculously tedious and difficult assignments that he would have preferred avoiding, but his happiest memories had been at Hogwarts. The prospect of another year at school with Ron and Hermione and Ginny and Neville and Luna, without having to worry about the threat of Voldemort, made Harry feel as if he had just caught the winning Snitch in the Quidditch World Cup, passed all of his N.E.W.T.s, and won a year-long supply of Felix Felicis all in one day.

As Harry re-read the letter, he suddenly noticed that there was another message written right below the printed letter in neat cursive script. Squinting to see the words, Harry tilted the letter to catch the sunlight slanting in through the window.

_Harry, I expect to see you at Hogwarts this fall if you still have plans of becoming an Auror. Also, I have a special request, which I will discuss with you when you arrive at school._

What was the "special request"? What could McGonagall possibly want from him? Harry mulled over the possibilities in his head. As much as he liked Hagrid, Harry secretly hoped it would have nothing to do with the Forbidden Forest; he'd had enough traumatizing experiences there to last him for the next decade. He didn't think she would assign him to duties with Filch either; seeing as the school year hadn't even started yet; there was no way he could have already gotten detention.

Harry thought back to the first time McGonagall had pulled him from class with a request, to introduce him to the then current captain of the Quidditch team, Oliver Wood. Perhaps McGonagall would be reinstating him to the Quidditch team? Harry could only hope.

All of a sudden, a loud cracking sound split the air. Before Harry could turn around, his line of vision was filled with bushy brown hair. Hermione flung her arms around him and beamed excitedly.

"HARRY! It's so good to see you! What have you been up to? Have you gotten your letter yet? We just got ours, I'm so excited and I think it's such a great idea - thank goodness Kingsley is the new Minister of Magic - of course I was already planning to go back to school, I've already done some reading ahead and the seventh _Standard Book of Spells_ has so many interesting techniques - there were just so many seventh year courses that we didn't have the chance to take, and -"

"Hermione, you're going to suffocate if you don't take a breath," Ron said, grinning. "So how are you mate?"

"Alright," Harry replied, grinning back. "It feels strange to be back here after everything that happened this year."

"This place has always been strange," Ron laughed. "Muggle places in general. We were just at Hermione's place, went there straight from Bill and Fleur's. I never understood why the paintings don't move -"

"Oh yes! Harry, I was able to find my parents in Australia - thank goodness they were nearby, they were having dinner with another family with the last name Wilkins, thought they were relatives you see - they were so confused when I suddenly showed up - but I was able to use Side-Along Apparition to get them back home just before I reversed the memory charm!"

"Bloody brilliant, this one," Ron said, making Hermione flush pink. "We just came from London since Hermione's parents moved back in."

"And we'll be back in London soon to buy supplies in Diagon Alley," Hermione said excitedly. "It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

"I need to help out George for a bit anyway," Ron said. "There's some great new stuff at the shop, Fred and George had some excellent new ideas before … yeah," he ended lamely, looking a little lost. Although he assured everyone he was fine, George still hadn't quite adjusted to life after Fred's death in the war. It had always been "Fred and George." They had always been pals, pranksters, and partners in crime, and it was undoubtedly difficult to lose his other half, business partner, and best friend all at once. The entire Weasley family and those close to them were still suffering the loss of a brave son who was thoroughly Gryffindor to the end.

"I'll help too," Harry offered. "We have plenty of time until school starts."

"Thanks mate," Ron said, smiling. "Well, Mum's probably expecting us. Should we get going? We can actually apparate out of here this time!"

Harry could already see the wooden house with chimneys dotting the roof every which way, nested between high trees.

"Let's go!"

A loud crack cut through the room for the second time that day, and the Golden Trio was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

**CHAPTER 2:** A Very Special Birthday

Harry landed on the ground with a hard thump, sending a cloud of dust flying. The impact of his landing left a clear imprint in the firm earth beneath his feet. He looked around searching for Ron and Hermione.

Harry heard Ron before he actually saw him.

"Ow!" Ron cried as he slowly got up from his position sprawled face flat against the ground. "Still haven't quite gotten the hang of this yet," he said sheepishly, rubbing the side of his head.

Hermione landed gracefully just a few moments behind them, trying to suppress a laugh at Ron's unfortunate landing.

"You've got some dirt on your nose, did you know?" she smirked, pointing at a spot on her own nose. "Just there."

"Not this again," Ron groaned. "And she says _I'm _the one that's immature," he whispered to Harry, "when she hasn't changed since first year!"

"I heard that, Ron," Hermione said lightly, already ahead of them. "I'm choosing to ignore it."

The sky was clear and bright, the meadows lush and green. Clouds of soft smoke were rising from The Burrow's many crooked chimneys. Several old wooden boards had been haphazardly nailed to accommodate the building's unusual architecture. The entire house looked like it was on the tip of collapse. Harry thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Before Harry, Ron, and Hermione had reached the front door, Mrs. Weasley was barrelling down the dirt path towards them, holding up her skirts as she went.

"Oh, it's so good to see you all!" she squealed, wrapping her arms tightly around all three of them at once. "The clock told me Ronnie had arrived," she said, referring to the Weasleys' family clock hanging in the living room. The old clock monitored the whereabouts of each family member. "Come in!"

"Mum, I thought I told you not to call me that," Ron muttered. "I'm already eighteen."

"Speaking of eighteen, someone's birthday is coming up soon!" Mrs. Weasley cooed, nudging Harry. "You're all growing up so fast, I'll be so lonely when you're all gone," she said, wiping away a sudden tear.

"It's alright, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said comfortingly. "We'll definitely visit whenever we can."

"Alright then," Mrs. Weasley said, perking up. "I've still got cooking to do, you kids can come in and get yourselves settled."

Mrs. Weasley disappeared through the back door, which was surrounded by rusty cauldrons, old wellington boots, cracked flasks, and a random assortment of burnt pans and bent utensils. The trio trailed behind. The gnomes had started peeking out of the ground from their tunnels to see what the fuss was about. Hermione stepped gingerly over the gnomes while Ron happily stamped on their heads.

The backyard consisted of a large, overgrown garden, with a muddy pond in the middle. The entire yard was surrounded by a fence which was originally white, but currently appeared to be more of a moldy yellow color. To the right, the cornfield stretched as far as the eye could see, bright tufts of yellow-green reaching into the sky.

Ron walked toward the broom shed, pulling open the door with a loud creak.

"Brilliant! All the broomsticks are still here!" Ron said excitedly. "We should play Quidditch, Harry! We could get Fred to join, and Ginny. No one's going to want Percy on their team though..."

"RON! Didn't I tell you to get in here?" Mrs. Weasley called loudly from within the house.

"You'll have plenty of time to talk Quidditch later," Hermione said as she entered the house, Ron and Harry not far behind her.

Although the last time Harry had visited, the house had undergone a massive reorganization in preparation for Bill and Fleur's wedding, The Burrow had once again become jumbled and cluttered. Harry didn't mind at all. The Burrow had always been everything he thought a home should be - warm, welcoming, lived in.

Mrs. Weasley was standing at the sink, flicking her wand as the dishes dried themselves and flew into the appropriate cabinets. Occasionally, she would run to the oven, peering through the oven window nervously.

"You don't bake, Mum," Ron commented.

"I'm trying out a new cookbook," Mrs. Weasley replied briskly.

Harry glanced at the massive cookbook propped open on the kitchen table. "Mastering the Art of Muggle Cooking: How Muggles Make Magic in the Kitchen by Marta Stewert," he read slowly from the cover.

"Yes, Muggle cookbooks are very popular lately," Mrs. Weasley said. "I'm making chocolate chip cookies, it's a very traditional Muggle recipe from - Oh!"

Mrs. Weasley pulled out the baking tray hurriedly. Where the chocolate chip cookies were supposed to be, Harry saw something resembling black hockey pucks.

"How did they bake so quickly? They were rising so slowly before, I didn't think anything would happen if I tampered with the oven just a little bit..."

"Mum, what's burning?" Ginny asked as she strolled into the kitchen.

"Nothing," Mrs. Weasley replied curtly. "Mind your manners, say hello to Harry."

"Harry's here?" She turned around and saw him standing by the kitchen table.

"Hi," Harry said, smiling. "Hope you've been doing alright."

"I've been fine," Ginny said. "Better now that you're here."

She was interrupted by the sound of a sudden coughing fit. Looking up, Harry and Ginny saw Ron.

"Ron, will you grow up please?" Ginny huffed. "It's not like you and Hermione are any better."

Ron's face turned bright red as he struggled to come up with a retort.

"We'll talk later, Harry," Ginny said. "I'm going to help Hermione finish setting up a bed in my room."

"You should help Harry with his bed too, Ronald," Mrs. Weasley cut in.

"Alright," Ron said. "Come on, Harry."

The two started their way up the staircase, winding up five flights of stairs before they reached the small room beneath the attic. The room was still exploding with bright orange Chudley Cannon posters. Books and quills were scattered all over the floor. The bed was unmade.

"Sorry it's such a mess," Ron said apologetically. "We were in such a hurry to leave last year, I don't think anyone's been up here since."

"No worries, mate," Harry said. "Your room's great."

Together, they shoved the books under the bed and tossed the broken quills into the wastebin. Ron threw all of his clothes and socks into his school trunk and forced the lid shut. The floor began coming into sight. They stood back and admired their work.

"Excellent," Ron said. "Now that that's finished, _Accio mattress_."

A mattress came zooming up the stairs, banging into the walls, and finally crashed into the door. Ron dislodged it with his foot and kicked it onto the floor.

"Ratty old thing," he said. "Should work fine though."

"RONALD! What are you doing up there?" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.

"Helping Harry with the bed!" Ron called back.

"MUM! MY MATTRESS IS GONE!" Percy yelled from somewhere below them.

"RONALD! YOU BRING THAT BACK DOWN TO PERCY'S ROOM IMMEDIATELY!" Mrs. Weasley's voice was piercing even on the fifth floor.

"Guess I should've specified which mattress," Ron said. "Wish I could've seen the look on Percy's face when his mattress started flying out of his room though."

"I didn't know Percy was staying here," Harry noted.

"Percy's staying for the whole summer," Ron said. "Shacklebolt's giving him a break before he starts working for the Ministry in the fall. He's been holed up in his room studying Wizarding law or magical regulations or something boring and Percy-like."

"That was excellent, Ron," George interrupted. "The mattress hit Percy right in the back of the head. Couldn't have done it better myself. Oh, hello Harry!"

Harry waved in greeting. "How have you been?"

"Alright. I've been working on a new project for the shop, it's really taking off," George said. "You two interested in being test subjects?"

"Not particularly," Ron said.

"Still stuck on that nasty episode with Romilda Vane's Love Potion in sixth year? That's some strong stuff. Sold more than two hundred bottles just last year."

"Poor, unsuspecting souls," Ron grumbled. Harry nodded in firm agreement.

"Well, I'm starving," George said. "Let's go eat."

"Still have to get this stupid mattress back into Percy's room," Ron said. "You two go down first."

George and Harry started down the stairs. Harry could still hear Ron's voice faintly chanting, "Wingardium leviosa." He cursed a couple times before he finally got it right.

Mr. Weasley was already sitting at the dinner table when George, Harry, and Ron joined him. Ginny and Hermione were helping Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, stirring pots and pans and chopping vegetables.

"We're so happy to have you here, Harry," Mr. Weasley said warmly.

"Thanks for having me," Harry replied.

"You're always welcome here."

It was at times like these that Harry really wished he had a family like the Weasleys.

"What's that you're reading, dad?"

Mr. Weasley held up the front page of _The Daily Prophet_. "This article? Haven't you boys heard about the International Wizarding Games?"

They shook their heads.

"Goodness, I thought you all knew! It's been all over the news. Well, the International Wizarding Games are essentially a series of competitive sporting events that bring wizards and witches together from around the world. I guess you could say that it's the Quidditch World Cup except expanded for all sorts of sports like broom racing and cauldron lifting. The Muggles have their own version of the Games, they call it... the Oompa-links, I believe, and they hold it every four years."

"You mean the Olympics?" Hermione asked, joining the conversation.

"Yes, that! Of course, we couldn't afford to hold the Games every four years - the hospital costs get quite high, you see - so it only happens once every decade. They canceled the previous two Games since they were working on new regulations to make the events safer. The last time I watched the Games, I was your age! Just graduated from Hogwarts and all."

"What was it like?" Harry asked curiously.

"It was magnificent. I still remember the opening ceremony clearly. It was held in China that year, I think it was 1968..." Mr. Weasley got a dreamy look in his eyes. "The opening ceremony was simply spectacular. There were exploding fireworks in every color you could imagine, and the Directors of Charms enchanted the fireworks so they would dance like Qinglong azure dragons. Those dragons could blow actual fire! I really don't know how they pulled it off, quite difficult magic, very tricky technique..."

"They were able to do that just with charms?" Hermione inquired. "They could have just been shooting up actual fire in the air during the fireworks so it looked like the dragons were breathing fire, right?"

"Oh no, magic in east Asia is used quite differently you see. They _do_ have wands - made out of rather strange materials, they have their own version of dragon heartstrings and phoenix feathers - but they commonly use Pixiu hairs - that's sort of a winged lion - and bamboo among some other strange plants and animals. It's truly quite fascinating. Anyway, a lot of wizards and witches choose not to use their wands after their studies. They perform magic by controlling energy flows, makes them especially talented healers. I don't know much about their magic, never really had the time to study them in depth. I learned everything I know from a Japanese gentleman visiting the Ministry for a conference on International Wizarding Health Policy. He was the one that told me about the enchantments on the firework dragons. Couldn't tell me the secret though."

Harry was thoroughly fascinated. He had never really thought about different types of magic existing outside of what he had known and experienced directly. Based on the looks on Ron and Hermione's faces, Harry could tell they were thinking along the same lines.

"I can't believe I haven't read about this before, I must not have been looking in the right places. There's just so much to learn about how other wizards and witches are using magic, and at such an advanced level as well," Hermione contemplated aloud.

"The Wizarding world _is_ rather isolated," Mr. Weasley said, "likely because we work to prevent Muggles from finding about us. Wizarding communities are generally rather separated from one another. It's the reason the International Wizarding Games were started so long ago, to provide an opportunity for magic folk from all over the world to gather and showcase their abilities."

Mrs. Weasley interrupted the discussion by clearing her throat loudly. "Dinner's ready! The food's going to get cold."

Harry looked up and saw that the table was heaped tall with plates of roast chicken (courtesy of the Weasley's front yard), boiled potatoes, sausages and bacon, pumpkin soup, fresh bread and butter and jam, Yorkshire pudding and gravy, and even a rhubarb crumble for dessert. Harry's mouth watered just looking at all the food.

Wiping her hands on her apron, Mrs. Weasley said, "It's been a long time since we've had dinner together, sitting at this table. Regardless of difficult situations and painful losses, we've had each other. We've much to be thankful for." Her voice broke a little toward the end.

Everyone sitting at the table nodded in agreement, mumbling in quiet affirmation.

"To each and every one of you," Mr. Weasley toasted, raising his mug of pumpkin juice.

They ate and laughed and talked for hours, discussing everything from the International Wizarding Games to George's new business ideas to the weirdest paintings at Hogwarts. Harry hadn't known that there were so many strange characters besides the Fat Lady and Sir Cadogan. Apparently Brutus Scrimgeour in the Hogwarts Trophy Room was particularly talkative when drunk, and Merwyn the Malicious on the third floor was constantly cursing at passerby, but would fall asleep when he heard the Hogwarts song.

They ate until they couldn't eat another bite and laughed until their stomachs hurt. Harry hadn't felt so safe and happy for a long time.

By the time they finished clearing the dinner table and headed upstairs for bed, Harry could barely keep his eyes open. He all but collapsed onto his mattress besides Ron's bed - Ron had successfully found the guest bed before going downstairs for dinner - and fell asleep.

When Harry woke up the next morning, the sunlight was already streaming through the windows. Harry felt extremely well-rested. Not being inside Voldemort's head was extremely liberating; he no longer had strange nightmares and his scar hadn't hurt since the end of the war.

Suddenly, Ron's house elf-shaped alarm clock started jumping up and down, waving it's arms and squealing, "It's ten o' clock, you big old rock!" Harry looked over at Ron, who was tangled in his blankets and precariously close to falling off his bed. He was muttering in his sleep. "Get out of the way, McLaggen, you useless, bogey-brained bloke - you don't deserve to be Keeper..."

"Wake up, Ron," Harry said. "It's late."

Ron yawned widely and rolled over in his bed with a groan.

"BREAKFAST!" Mrs. Weasley hollered. "Get down here quickly, there are plenty of chores to do today! NO DAWDLING IN BED!"

Ron grunted and got up reluctantly. His toothbrush sailed down the hall and automatically began brushing his teeth before he even reached the restroom. Thinking of his days at the Dursleys before he learned he was a wizard, Harry thought to himself that magic was awfully convenient. He didn't know how he had gotten by without it.

The kitchen was filled with the wonderful aroma of freshly brewing coffee. Mrs. Weasley was clattering around, throwing bacon in the frying pan and scrambling eggs. A basket of assorted biscuits was already on the table, along with a large plate of grilled tomatoes and fried mushrooms, and a steaming bread and butter pudding.

"Help yourselves," Mrs. Weasley said. "Eat up! You'll be busy today. Ron, George, you two will be responsible for de-gnoming the garden. Harry dear, you don't-"

"I want to help," Harry interrupted.

"Well... alright, if you insist. But don't overwork yourself."

After Mrs. Weasley had convinced everyone to eat third helpings, Harry, Ron, and George headed outside into the garden. Ron was the first one to find a gnome. Deftly grabbing it by the ankles, he swung it over his head violently a couple times and let go. As Harry watched, he felt a pair of razor-sharp teeth sink into his ankle. He jumped in surprise and shook his foot rapidly back and forth. With a particularly forceful kick, the gnome was forced to release its grasp and ended up sailing at least forty feet. Harry felt quite pleased with himself and returned to work.

Soon the air was filled with gnomes flying in every direction. When they were relatively certain that they had completed de-gnoming the garden, Ron suggested that they take a break and do a couple rounds on the broomsticks. They each grabbed a broomstick from the shed and ran up the hill towards the small paddock the Weasleys owned.

Harry gripped the handle of the slightly beaten up Cleansweep Five tightly. He hadn't touched a broomstick since he had lost his Firebolt last year. Taking a deep breath, he kicked up against the ground and took off. It was the perfect day for flying. He could feel the sun warm on his back and a pleasant breeze breathing through his hair. Harry felt completely free. It was a wonderful feeling.

The three boys were soon racing amongst the tall trees, immersed in their own worlds as they sped through the sky. They swerved and dove and looped, blocking invisible Quaffles and catching imaginary Snitches. They even engaged in several rounds of broom racing, pretending they were champions in the International Wizarding Games, with the crowds cheering and roaring beneath them.

They were quickly brought back to reality when they realized that the roaring was actually coming from one red-faced Mrs. Weasley.

"BOYS! If you insist on pretending not to hear me any longer, you are going to regret it very soon!"

Afraid of facing Mrs. Weasley's wrath, they quickly descended and returned their broomsticks to the shed. The air was cooling and the sun was no longer high in the sky. Harry hadn't realized that they'd already been out for so long. He carefully closed the door of the shed behind him before heading toward the house. He was the last to enter.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!" Harry jumped up in surprise and looked up to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, George, Ginny, and even Percy standing around the table and smiling at him. A "Happy 18th Birthday" banner was hanging above the dinner table and automatically changed colors every thirty seconds.

In his excitement in coming to The Burrow, Harry hadn't even realized that it was his birthday. It had never been a big deal with the Dursleys, and the fact that anyone bothered remembering his birthday and actually throwing him a surprise celebration was a novelty.

Mrs. Weasley rushed back into the kitchen and came out bearing a giant cake with a pinkish frosting and eighteen large candles.

"Made it from scratch myself, using my new cookbook," she said proudly. "I didn't use any magic in the baking process, I only added the singing enchantment at the end. Charmed it to sing "Happy Birthday!"

Harry thought the cake sounded like it was howling "Banshee Buffet," but thought it would be wiser not to tell Mrs. Weasley.

"Make a wish, Harry," Ginny said.

Harry silently wished that his friends would always be safe, and that there would be more times in the future to be together like this. Memorizing the moment, Harry took a deep breath and blew out the candles. Everyone cheered and George let off some mini fireworks.

"Time for presents!" Ron exclaimed.

There was something from everyone. Mrs. Weasley gave him a hand-knitted scarf with his name embroidered on the edge in Gryffindor red and gold. Mr. Weasley gave him a book called "The Best of Muggle Magic Tricks" while Hermione had found him an autobiography called "The Life of an Auror" by Prichard Smith, who was apparently one of the first official Aurors. Ron picked up a massive bag of sweets from Honeydukes, which was overflowing with Acid Pops, Fizzing Whizzbees, Liquorice Wands, Sugar Quills, Peppermint Toads, and even a number of things Harry had never seen before. George gave him a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Sampler Kit with all of their bestselling products, including everything from Extendable Ears to Patented Daydream charms. Ginny had gotten him a subscription to "Quidditch Illustrated." Ron flipped through the magazine in interest but scowled when he found Viktor Krum flying back and forth for a new broomstick ad on page fourteen. Percy handed Harry a thick volume entitled "The Encyclopedia of Wizard Law Part 1." Even Hagrid had gotten a gift for Harry, sending it by owl. It was a miniature model of a Hungarian Horntail that blew fire when you pulled its tail.

Harry thanked everyone at least a dozen times and thought that there wasn't a thing he would have changed about his eighteenth birthday.

It was definitely his best yet.


End file.
